


Pour It Up

by grahamcrackercrumbs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blowjobs, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Zayn, uh this is literally just shameful smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamcrackercrumbs/pseuds/grahamcrackercrumbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn pulls back from Harry and stares at him, challenging. "You made me come down here at 3:30 in the bloody morning, Styles. You gonna make it up to me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour It Up

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I was supposed to be working on something else, but I remembered I had this is laying around in my laptop and I got distracted. I hope you guys enjoy! If you have any thoughts let me know either here or at h0ney-maid.tumblr.com! Thanks for reading!

"Throw it up, throw it up! Watch it all fall out! Pour it up, pour it up! That's how we ball out!" Harry belts as he walks down the stairs, wiggling his hips and body rolling to a beat only he can hear in his head. He hops off the last step, seemingly finished with his rousing Rihanna rendition.

"Alright, I'm headed off." He pauses to grab his coat he'd thrown on the back of the couch earlier and leans down to Zayn who's reclining on the sofa, giving him a quick kiss. "Don't wait up for me, okay? I'm gonna be late, and I know you have work tomorrow."

"Yah, yah," Zayn replies, returning his attention to the TV screen. "Just make sure to wake me when you get back."

Harry smiles at Zayn's usual mixture of feigned nonchalance and genuine concern.

" 'Course." Harry kisses Zayn again and nudges his nose. "I love you."

The corners of Zayn's mouth quirk up, and his eyes crinkle. "Love you, too. Now get out of here. My much needed night of quiet was supposed to start a long time ago."

"Sorry,” Harry replies, “hair took a while to sort out."

Zayn raises his eyebrows teasingly- insinuating doubt that the work came to any fruition. Harry shoves him playfully and then shrugs on his coat. He's out the door when he shouts back, "See you later!"

"See ya!" Zayn says with a small wave. "Have fun!"

Zayn turns back to the TV and wraps himself in the big blanket he dragged from their bedroom. He's used to nights like these. Harry likes to go out a lot more often than Zayn does, and Zayn's perfectly comfortable letting him do whatever while he stays at home, content with the quiet. He grabs the remote, flicking to Netflix, and turns on Stepbrothers.  As the scenes carry out, the weight on his chest and shoulders from the day's work lightens, and he laughs easily.

When the movie ends, he gets some snacks (grapes and bananas- Harry's done the grocery shopping) and scrolls through the listings until he finds another movie. He knows he told Harry he wouldn't wait up, but he still feels uneasy going to sleep without knowing he's home and safe.

Half way through the movie, he feels his eyes drooping, heavy and sore from staring at the television so long. He fights back the tiredness, but as soon as he closes his eyes to "rest them”, sleep over takes him, and he drifts off, wrapped in their large comforter, grapes sprawled across his lap.

 

He's woken abruptly by his phone ringing, brazen and unwelcome at this time of the night-or really morning now. He feels a pang of panic in his chest when he sees Harry's number on the screen.

He answers it with a lump of worry in his throat, asking hurriedly, "Harry, are you alright?"

"What are you wearing?" Harry's words sound slow and needy, but that’s not unusual. Zayn relaxes slightly.

"What?"

"I said what are you wearing?"

"My bloody pajamas, Harry. What do you think? It's three in the morning. Where are you?"

"I'm at the club," Harry says innocently, and Zayn hears him huff out a dramatic sigh. "But I miss you."

Zayn rolls his eyes. He's dating an absolute buffoon. "Do you need me to come and get you?"

Harry's voice picks up at that. "Yes, please."

"Alright, I'll be there in fifteen."

 

Zayn has to park the car only a block away from the club, and he’s thankful for the good luck considering they’re downtown on a Friday night. When he reaches the club, Harry is outside, still dancing slightly to the music that's pouring out of the doors.

"Zayn!" He says excitedly, wrapping his arms around Zayn's neck. "I missed you!

“You alright?"

"Mmhmm," Harry hums happily, and Zayn smiles.

"Good. I had to park a little ways away, but it's not too far." Harry slumps down, leaning against Zayn's shoulder, taking his hand in his as they start walking.

They've not walked for two minutes when Harry asks, "Can you fuck me when we get home?"

Zayn's breath gets caught in his throat, and he coughs, surprised- though he's not sure why; Harry can hardly be called tactful when he’s sober. "No."

Harry furrows his eyebrows, disappointed. "Can I suck you off?"

Zayn laughs lightly, smiling to himself and repeats, "No."

Harry nuzzles into Zayn's neck, biting softly at the skin there. "Please, Zayn,” he draws out. “I want your cock so badly. I _need_ it." He gives an exaggerated pout.

"Christ," Zayn mutters to himself as he laughs shortly and feels a flash of heat run through his body. "Harry, I don't-"

"Why not?" Harry asks, cutting him off.

Zayn stops walking, and Harry moves to stand in front of him, arms wrapped around Zayn's waist. "Because you're drunk, Harry. You need to drink some water and-"

"No I'm not." Zayn meets Harry's eyes and realizes their surprisingly clear, besides his pupils being blown wide. “Slightly buzzed at most, really.”

"But… I thought that was the point of tonight?"

Harry runs his lips lightly over Zayn's cheek and down his neck, placing open mouthed kisses at what's exposed of his collarbone. "I was going to, but I didn't feel like it. Was distracted. Kept thinking about coming home to you.” Zayn closes his eyes, breathing out a quiet sigh and tilts his head back. Harry holds the back of his neck in his hand and begins sucking and biting on his neck. “Tasting you in my mouth. Feeling you inside me." Zayn’s jaw tightens, and Harry leads them both to the left, stepping into a dark, small alley between two clubs.

Harry presses Zayn up against the brick wall, and the ridges are slightly uncomfortable on his back, but Zayn doesn't care. Harry bites at his jaw and runs his tongue along the shell of Zayn's ear. Zayn shivers and brings his hands up to Harry's shoulders. He catches a flash of his watch on his wrist and is reminded of what time it is and that he's been dragged out of a much needed slumber.

Zayn smiles to himself. He puts his hand on Harry's chest and nudges him back, keeping a straight face. “Doesn't matter anyways. Still can't keep your legs and feet straight when you walk."

Harry looks at him confused and taken aback. "What?"

Zayn smirks, raising an eyebrow. "I said it doesn't matter if you're drunk or not. Can't tell the difference. Barely have control over you limbs any of the time. It's _all_ rather sloppy."

He sees Harry's brow furrow, and Zayn worries he doesn't understand he's only riling him up for fun. A flash of recognition crosses Harry's face though, and he smiles conspiratorially. Harry walks forward, crowding Zayn against the wall.

Harry leans in, bringing his mouth close to Zayn's ear, breath tickling him. "You know I fuck you well, Zayn Malik." His voice is slow and rough with a cocky lilt to it, and Zayn feels it wash over him.

Harry presses his mouth firmly against Zayn's, quickly licking into his mouth and swallowing the small moan Zayn gives. Harry traces his fingers up Zayn's stomach and presses his hand firmly against Zayn’s chest, palm planted over the necklace he gave him: a silver moon with "I Love You" inscribed on the back. He runs his other hand down Zayn’s hip to his thigh, grabbing it and hitching it over his waist.

Zayn pulls back from Harry and stares at him, challenging. "You made me come down here at 3:30 in the bloody morning, Styles. You gonna make it up to me?"

Harry lets out a rough groan, head dropping to Zayn's shoulder. "Car. Now."                                                                                                                           

 

 

They barely make it home in one piece, with Zayn constantly slapping at Harry's wandering hands to avoid swerving into oncoming traffic. Zayn briefly thinks that Harry really will be the death of him.

When they run up the stairs to their flat, Zayn cuts in front of Harry, and he giggles when Harry rolls his eyes and smirks at him. Zayn takes the keys out of his pocket, but when he goes to unlock the door, Harry presses against him, hands on Zayn’s hips. He licks a long line up Zayn’s neck to just behind his ear, sucking on the spot that always makes Zayn’s knees get weak. He runs his hand over Zayn’s hip and reaches in front of him, palming the hard line of his cock through his jeans. Zayn holds back the sounds that are bubbling up in his throat, not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction.

“A little overeager, aren’t we?” Zayn says through a shaky breath. He can feel Harry smile against his neck. He bites down suddenly on the apex of his neck and shoulder, and Zayn can’t help that gasp that leaves his mouth.

“Get a room!” a neighbor shouts from across the way.

They both laugh breathily, and Harry presses himself against Zayn, so he can feel how hard he is already. “Better get inside,” Harry says, lips brushing against Zayn’s ear. “Don’t want to traumatize Mrs. Williams.”

“You get the paper every morning naked, Harry. She’s already traumatized.”

Zayn fumbles with the keys, missing the lock the first few times. “Having some trouble, love?” Harry teases.

Zayn lets out a frustrated huff and pushes Harry back with his elbow, finally able to think at least somewhat coherently with Harry’s hand off his dick.

When they get through the door, Harry reaches for Zayn, pressing their mouths together.

“You said something about tasting me, yeah?” Zayn mumbles against his lips.

Harry groans and steps back, dropping to his knees hastily, and Zayn smiles at his eagerness.

Harry dips his fingers beneath the band of Zayn’s joggers and pulls them down until they pool at his feet. He leans forward, pressing his open mouth to the fabric of Zayn’s pants and breathing out hot air. Zayn cards his hand through Harry’s hair, tugging on it. Harry moans softly, eyes closed as he drags his bottom lip up the line of Zayn’s cock.

Zayn breathes in deeply, and uses his free hand to tug down his pants, hooking his thumb under the waist band and sliding them to the floor. Harry goes to move forward, mouth open, but Zayn holds him still, fingers wrapped tightly around his curls. Harry whines, tongue coming out to lick over his lips.

Zayn takes himself in his hand and tilts Harry’s head up, running the tip of his cock along Harry’s bottom lip, back and forth.

“You good like this, babe,” he says low as Harry looks up at him. “Got the prettiest mouth. Made to be fucked.”

Harry narrows his eyes, smirking, and flicks his tongue out, catching Zayn’s tip. Zayn breathes in sharply through his teeth and brings Harry’s head forward, pushing himself into his mouth. Harry gives him one, long suck before pulling off and lifting his hands to Zayn’s hips, directing him back until he’s against the wall.

Harry looks at him with a tilted smile. “Now who’s eager?”  

Zayn shifts his hips, but Harry’s holding on tightly, and when Harry lowers his mouth back over him, Zayn loosens his grip in his hair, letting Harry do as he pleases.

Harry hollows his cheeks out, mouth tight around Zayn and brings one hand down from Zayn’s hip to wrap around the base of his cock, moving it up and down at the same rhythm as his mouth. Zayn’s head falls back against the wall, and he grits out a curse, running a hand through his hair. Harry looks up at him and somehow, with a dick in his mouth, he still manages to look smug. Zayn presses his thumb roughly into Harry’s cheek, feeling himself move in and out.

He looks down at Harry with hooded eyes. “S’that all you can take?”

Harry grunts, eyebrows pulled together, and takes his hand off Zayn’s cock, putting it back on his hip. He looks up at Zayn, holding his gaze as he lowers his head down further, until Zayn feels himself hit the back of Harry’s throat.

“Fuck, yeah,” Zayn breathes out.

His body feels like all his bones have melted, heat building through his body until it reaches his fingertips and toes. Harry swallows around him, gagging slightly, and it feels too good. Zayn doesn’t want to come like this; he wants to make Harry work for it, so Zayn pulls him off, and Harry takes in a rough breath, eyes glassy and lips slick and bruised.

Zayn gets to his knees so he’s even with Harry and presses their lips together harshly. Harry groans into his mouth, gripping onto Zayn’s waist and pulling him down underneath him. Zayn clutches at Harry’s shirt, pulling it off over his head and tossing it to the side. He tugs at Harry’s belt, getting it undone so he can slip off the rest of his clothing, too.

Harry ruts against Zayn, pressing his hips down so their dicks brush against each other. Harry whines low in his throat at the friction, pressing his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck and sucking a lovebite into his skin. Zayn runs his hand down the slope of Harry’s back, feeling his soft hips before moving his hand down to grip Harry’s ass, pressing them closer together. Harry brings his hand up to Zayn’s neck, brushing his thumb over the bruise he’s just made, and Zayn shivers.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry mumbles against Zayn’s lips as he rolls his hips down, rocking back and forth. It feels so damn incredible, but Zayn can already feel the hardwood floor pressing painfully at the notches of his spine, and he knows that if they don’t stop now, work won’t go well tomorrow- they’d made that mistake before.

Zayn taps at Harry’s arm muttering, “Bed,” and Harry nods quickly in understanding.

He gets up, pulling Zayn with and kisses him feverishly, holding onto the sides of his face. Harry tries to lead them to their bedroom unscathed, but he’s a bit distracted, so they end up bumping into a couple pieces of furniture, Zayn giggling against his mouth as Harry mutters, “Sorry, sorry.”

Luckily their apartment can only be described as slightly bigger than tiny, so they make it to their room in little time. Harry tosses Zayn onto the bed and Zayn laughs lightly, bouncing a couple times before rearranging himself on the mattress. Harry climbs on top of him, pushing his knees apart so he can settle in between them, and places an innocent kiss to Zayn’s lips before taking his cock in his hand and stroking him lazily.

Zayn moans, eyes watching as his hips automatically raise to meet Harry’s hand.

“Fuck, Harry, I-” He’s already so sensitive, worked up from Harry’s mouth. Zayn shoves his hand away with a grunt, and Harry leans back, looking down at Zayn with a glint in his eye. “Asshole,” Zayn mutters.

Harry takes Zayn’s chin in his hand, looking at him directly, and all Zayn sees and hears and feels is him. Harry leans forward, barely brushing their lips together.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks, pressing a kiss high on Zayn’s cheekbone. “Nice and deep like you like it, yeah?”

Zayn flicks his tongue out to lick Harry’s thumb that’s resting on his bottom lip. Harry hums, eyes following the motion. He pushes his thumb into Zayn’s mouth, and Zayn closes his lips around it, swirling his tongue. Harry groans, and when he goes to slip his finger out of his mouth, Zayn drags his teeth against it.

“Yeah, want you to fuck me, fill me up.” Zayn wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, rolling his hips up. “So you can feel me… wet and hot and tight around you. Just how _you_ like, yeah?” Zayn says as he presses himself against Harry again.

Harry swears underneath his breath, mouthing at Zayn’s neck and collarbones. Zayn takes one of his hands, brings it down and traces one of Harry’s fingers over his hole.

“You gonna open me up for you, babe?”

Zayn feels Harry nod desperately against his neck, before shuffling away, reaching his arm across the bed to open the drawer in the nightstand and take out the bottle of lube.

Harry positions himself back between Zayn’s knees, opening them up further and clicking open the cap to get his fingers wet. Harry slides his fingers around Zayn’s hole, slicking up his skin before pressing a finger inside. Zayn wraps his hand around the back of Harry’s neck, bringing him closer for a kiss. Harry works his finger in and out of Zayn as he sucks and bites on his lips, moving down to taste his neck and chest.

Harry adds another finger as he licks over Zayn’s nipple, running small circles around it. Zayn cards his hand through Harry’s hair and presses his mouth closer. He sighs when Harry sucks on it, lips soft. He grazes his teeth across, and Zayn shivers, feeling goosebumps rise across his skin. Harry presses quick kisses across Zayn’s chest and repeats his actions, fingers scissoring inside of him. Harry presses a third finger into him, and Zayn takes in a sharp breath, grinding his hips down to meet his hand.

“How do you want me?” Harry asks, moving his fingers apart and back together inside of Zayn, spreading him out.

Zayn pushes Harry’s hand away from his, regretfully, and flips them so he’s straddling Harry’s hips. He grabs the bottle of lube, spreading some over his fingers, and reaches down to stroke Harry a few times, slicking him up. Harry holds onto his hips tightly as Zayn lowers himself onto him slowly, inch by inch. Zayn lifts his head to look at him and sees Harry watching where he’s sliding into Zayn, mouth parted.

After a few moments Zayn rocks his hips back and forth gently, moving in slow circles while he adjusts, enjoying the feeling of having Harry inside of him. Harry runs his hands across the top of Zayn’s thighs and hips, thumb brushing over the heart he got tattooed there years ago. When he finally lifts himself off and pushes back down Harry lets out heavy breath that trails off into moan from deep in his chest, tightening his hold on Zayn to steady him.

Zayn builds to a steady rhythm, raising and lowering himself onto Harry over and over again, until Harry’s keening underneath him, mumbling things under his breath that Zayn can’t quite understand. He trails his hands up Zayn’s torso with a dazed look in his eyes, tracing over the lines of his muscle and tattoos.

 Harry snaps his hips up at the same time he rocks down, and Zayn chokes out a curse in surprise as a fresh wave of heat rolls through him. He does it again, and Zayn bites back a groan, fingers digging into Harry’s chest as he curls toward him.

Harry sits up, putting one arm behind to support himself and one around Zayn’s waist, bringing them flush together in his lap. He rocks his hips up hard, and Zayn lets out a ragged groan, holding on tightly to Harry’s shoulders.

“You gonna come for me, love?” Harry breathes out, nudging their noses together and placing a sloppy kiss to Zayn’s lips.

Usually it’s Harry who loves a good competition, loves to win, to prove himself, while Zayn’s content with teasing him about whatever he can, too apathetic to actually be bothered with what Harry deems challenges.

But ever since he pushed Harry back from that brick wall earlier, he’s been feeling an odd competitive streak in him, so he answers back with as much of a smirk as he can muster, “You gonna make me?”

Harry lets out a rough grunt, eyebrows pulled together, and wraps his hand around Zayn’s cock, stroking him roughly, the glide made easy by the precome beading at Zayn’s tip. Zayn’s head falls forward resting against Harry’s shoulder, and he bites down, tasting the salty sweat on Harry’s skin and trying to fight against the heat coiling inside of him.

He tightens himself around Harry, pushing down onto him, and Harry lets out a loud groan that’s gravelly from his throat, his hand stuttering its motions on Zayn’s cock. Harry presses Zayn closer and rolls them over so he’s on top, hands on either side of Zayn’s head. He drags his himself out of Zayn agonizingly slowly, so Zayn can feel every inch of him, and Zayn digs his fingers into the back of Harry’s shoulders, sure there’s going to be marks there tomorrow. Harry thrusts his hips back in roughly so he’s deep, and Zayn can feel all of his muscles tighten, his legs squeezing around Harry’s waist. Harry repeats the action, the slow drag back and the quick snap of his hips, and Zayn’s coming hard, thick warm stripes landing over him stomach.

Harry fucks him through it, moving his hips at a quicker pace, and comes soon after, eyes scrunched up and mouth open with a broken moan. He rests his forehead against Zayn’s chest for a few moments and pulls out of Zayn slowly, landing at his side with a thump.

A little while later, the bed moves underneath Zayn, and after a moment he feels fabric drag across him stomach, what he knows to be Harry cleaning him off. When’s he’s done Harry runs his fingertips gently over Zayn’s face, trailing across his cheekbones and eyelashes. Zayn opens his eyes, and Harry smiles at him sleepily, hair a mess and skin still flushed. Zayn returns the smile and tugs on Harry’s arm, pulling him down so Zayn can cuddle against him, his back to Harry’s chest.

Harry drapes his arm over Zayn’s waist, pulling them close together. He kisses the back and side of Zayn’s neck lazily, stopping to mumble, “Sorry I made you come pick me up in the middle of the night.”

Zayn yawns, the end of it turning into a sigh. “S’alright I suppose. Think you made up for it.”

“Think?” Harry retorts back, and Zayn can practically see the pout on his face.

Zayn hums positively, but turns back so Harry can see the joking expression on his face. He takes Harry’s hand in his, lifting it so he can press a kiss to the birthmark on his wrist.

“Love you more than anything,” Zayn murmur’s, pressing his face to Harry’s chest and yawning again, feeling sleep only moments away.

“Love you, too, Zayn” Harry replies, resting his chin on the top of Zayn’s head and lacing their fingers together.


End file.
